


Beauty and the Barber

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Child Abuse, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barney Thomson's life had just gotten back to normal when he meets a girl that has absolutely no business being interested in a boring barber like him, and that's after he's broken her nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Luck

Life had gone back to being boring. The news had long ceased reporting on the murders of the barbers and the pieces killer’s sudden stopping of the spree as well, though business stayed up. Barney had stopped stuttering and muttering out whatever he could think of when a customer asked him about the ordeal -if he saw anything, if he ever suspected anyone, etc- and simply replied with a light smile and a no. He felt...free. The constant berating from his mother was gone, the inferiority he felt from his coworkers had also vanished and now… Oh now his violent outbursts were few and far between, no pent up anger or fear making him feel like a dog backed into the corner, no. None of that. He could smile and speak freely about what happened, talk himself up about being the luckiest bastard in Glasgow for getting away like that, outsmarting whoever the killer was and the like.

Everything was going monotonously perfectly.

Until she came in.

Moe French owned a flower shop down the street, and had been coming in to get his haircut every two weeks since he moved from Australia with his daughter. His wife had died in a mugging that nearly took his little girl as well and he thought it best to try for a fresh start. To be in a better, completely new place. Barney had never set eyes on the girl, Belle, before, but one had to assume with a name like that and a mug like Moe’s they had to compensate as much as possible for her looks.

How wrong he was.

Moe came in right on time, exactly two twenty-three, took off his hat and hung it on the hook. That’s what happened every time. The bell above the door would ding, Moe’s grunt of a hello would come, the bell would ding again just as he hung his hat up and he would sit down in front of Barney and spend the next fifteen minutes talking about flowers and how he can’t find a pub he liked. That was the routine, that was always the routine.

But today, the second ding was late. Barney frowned, looking up from where he was rinsing his combs at the sink, and set eyes on the most beautiful woman he could ever imagine.

Short if it weren’t for her tall red heels, a blue dress draped in lace over her body, arms bare, a belt around her waist. Her thick dark auburn and brown hair draped in heavy curls around her face. Her eyes were bluer than the sky, skin pale and so soft he longed to touch her even at this distance. She looked around with a small smile that grew when her eyes rested on him. Her lips were so pink, a dimple in her cheek. He dropped the combs and they scattered over the floor.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, dropping to his knees to quickly gather them up and drop them back in the sink. “I-I’ll be right with you, Moe, just give me a-”

Small hands with blue painted fingers appeared in his sight, helping him pick up the combs, a towel grasped in one of them. He looked up, right into the girl’s eyes and lost his breath. She smiled at him.

“Been a long day?” She asked, teasing him a little while also letting him know it was alright.

“When? Oh-oh, today, um. A bit, yeah. I, uh...Thank you.” He straightened back up, trying to think of something else to say to her when she was standing in front of him again, but nothing came. “Uh…” He swallowed and put on a nervous smile. “If, if you’ll excuse me, uh…” He ducked past her, patting his chair for Moe to take his seat.

“You ever met my daughter before, Barn?” Moe asked, looking at the girl with a prideful smile while Barney took some combs out of the next station’s sterilizer jar instead, embarrassed.

“N-no, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” he said, straightening up and giving Belle a friendly smile. “Lovely to meet you, uh, Miss French.”

Belle smiled, sitting at one of the chairs against the wall, hands clasped in her lap. “Please, Belle is fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Thomson.”

Barney managed to relax his smile a little and shook his head. “Barney is fine.”

The young woman grinned at him and he looked away before his blush could be seen and started focusing on cutting her father’s hair. He tried not to peek at her in the mirror too much, the fear of being caught keeping his eyes purposefully down. He needed to focus on his work, not leer at some poor girl like, like some pervert. She likely had enough problems with men to not want to deal with some old man staring at her.

Belle had a book open in her hands, reading peacefully. The afternoon sun came through the windows and bathed her in the sunlight that ignited her skin and the colors in her hair. Her hands carefully touched the pages, stroking it almost lovingly, as if to tell it through touch how much she enjoyed the story. He watched her through the mirror for a few moments, despite what he’d just chastised himself for.

Belle looked at him over the pages of the hefty novel, the sun catching her eyes and making them sparkle brighter than any gem. He blushed now, realizing, and ducked his head low, looking away.

But he could have sworn he felt her eyes still lingering on him, and he might have seen a smile out of the corner of his eye.

~*~

“There ya go, all set,” Barney said, stepping back and taking the cape off of him so he could get up. He kept his eyes once again on the floor or his hands or anywhere else other than Belle, looking up at the door, where a ladder was being set, a truck parked on the curb.

“Oh, fuck it all,” he spat, sighing and shaking his head. “They’re not supposed to be here ‘til tomorrow, we’re fuckin’ closed then for Christ’s sake.”

“Here, we’ll get out of your way, then,” Moe said, handing Barney the money and he started patting himself looking for change. Moe shook his head, guiding Belle by the arm to lead her out with him. “Keep it,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” he sighed, tucking the money away and walked outside, staring up at the man who was beginning to repaint the sign.

“The fuck are you doing?” He demanded loudly.

Belle looked over her shoulder on her way to the car across the street, watching the exchange and letting her father walk ahead of her.

“Painting the fucking sign, what’s it look like?” The man called back.

“You fucks weren’t supposed to be here til tomorrow! You’re gonna keep business out if you fuckin’ do this now, get down!” He made a rough gesture with his arm, motioning for him to get back on the ground, and in doing so knocked the scissors loose from his pocket and sending them to the sidewalk.

“Sorry, mac, but the order says to come today. You got a problem you call my fuckin’ boss. ‘E said to paint the sign, so I’m gonna fuckin’ do it.”

Barney glowered, taking a step forward. “You don’t get down from there right fucking now and I’ll come up there and get ya myself!”

Belle was walking back over, having seen the scissors fall and intended to give them back to the barber and hopefully talk him out of shouting too loudly or going after the painter. She knelt behind him, picking them up.

“You couldn’t drag me down there if ya wanted, ya rickety piece of shite!”

Belle stood, shaking her head at the antics and moved to tap Barney’s shoulder.

“I’ll kick this ladder right the fuck over, I swear to fucking god I will! You get your arse down here n-!”

The precise moment Belle went to get his attention, Barney pointed to the painter with a rough jerk of his arm, sending his elbow right into the bridge of the girl’s nose. In seconds she fell, smacked her head on the pavement and cried out in pain.

“Belle!” Moe started running over to them.

“Oh no!” Barney dropped to his knees beside Belle, worrying over her, wanting to pick up her head but that could do worse. He watched a small trickle of blood slide onto the sidewalk. “Oh fuck, no! Belle? Are you alright, can you-?”

“What the fuck did you do?!” Moe bellowed, lifting Barney by the lapels of his coat and shaking him violently. “Did you fucking hit my daughter?!”

“I-it was a-an accident I didn’t see her behind me, I-” He continued to stammer while Moe bellowed, ducking to avoid any blows that might come his way and they did, mostly angry slaps and still more shaking that didn’t seem to have any other purpose than to disorient him.

Belle was losing consciousness, vaguely aware of the ambulance sirens steadily getting closer thanks to a passerby calling it, her vision darkening as she watched her father throttle the barber she admittedly thought was very cute and wanted to know him better, but it was hard to say that when she was blacking out and bleeding from the head. She made a weak move to hand him his scissors, failed, and passed out while they yelled.

~*~

“Swear to god I’m pressing fucking charges,” Moe snarled, yelling at Barney over the cop’s shoulder.

Barney winced, wringing his hands and fiddling with the scissors they found in Belle’s hand when they picked her up. She was alright. Concussed and her nose was broken, but she’d be alright. He felt horrible for hurting her. He hadn’t even seen where she’d come from, hadn’t noticed her behind him and the next thing he knew the poor girl was on the ground.

“Your daughter is twenty six, Mr. French, you can’t press charges for her, that’s up to her,” the officer explained, sounding bored.

“He fucking knocked her out!”

“Shh!” A nurse hissed behind the reception’s desk. Barney was grateful for it.

He kept his arms crossed, pressing fingers to the bridge of his nose to ward of the anxiety induced headache he’d given himself. Although Moe’s incessant shaking likely didn’t help. He likely should leave, but he wanted to apologize to her  for what he did and do whatever he could to make up for it. He wasn’t sure what he could do, he cut hair for a living. Men’s hair, no less, he shouldn’t ever be allowed near Belle’s beautiful hair, he’d embarrass himself and likely ruin it.

But he could...do something, he was sure.

He waited around, keeping to himself in the corner while Moe paced back and forth. The police had left, taken both of their statements and now they were waiting for the all clear to go and speak to Belle, once she woke back up.

He had such horrible luck. The worst shite in the whole fuckin’ world, he had to. People dying and getting hurt around him, all of them freak accidents that caused him to panic like he was right now. He’d smashed a girl’s head in, for fuck’s sake! A beautiful, kind and brilliant girl he’d been staring at and making an absolute arse of himself.

It didn’t occur to him until the doctor said Belle was awake that he likely wouldn’t be able to talk to her without her father present, if he even allowed him back there to see her.

Which, incidentally, he didn’t. He barred his way, threatened to throw his ‘little fucking faggot arse out on his goddamn head’ if he followed him.

So he waited. He went into the waiting room on the floor above, sat near the window, and waited for him to leave. Cowardly as that might be he really wanted to apologize to Belle and not get punched because of it.

He crept back downstairs, stopping at the giftshop to get some pretty yellow flowers he thought Belle might like -he really didn’t have a fucking clue what any woman liked- and went to her room.

Belle’s broken nose was stuck in the same novel she’d been reading in the shop, purple bruises lining her luminous eyes now, a bandage wrapped around her head.

He looked at her for a moment, guilty, then realized he needed to announce himself. Barney knocked a little on the door, a broken, nervous rhythm and gave her a weak smile when she looked up.

Belle grinned when she saw him, shutting her book. “So here you are,” she smiled. “I was wondering where you were. Knock a girl on the head and don’t even pop in to say hello, how rude.” She giggled, teasing him, and he shuffled a little, smiling at the floor.

“Yes, well, I-I didn’t want to step on any toes, ya know? Not as if your father’s a big fan of mine anymore. I-I didn’t meant to knock ya down, Belle- Miss French- No! Belle. Um.” He held out the flowers, walking closer to her. Belle never stopped smiling at him, her gaze never mocking him or laughing at him, just a gentle kindness, and a sort of dazed appearance. She did have a concussion, though.

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled, smelling them and getting a bit of pollen on her nose. “Mm, they’re lovely. Yellow’s my favorite color.” She set them down, dusting the tip of her nose.

“I-I wanted to apologize somehow. Thought that at least might be a start. Not sure what else I can do to uh, make up for putting you in here.”

“It’s definitely a start,” Belle assured, still looking at him with stars in her eyes. Again he told himself it was the concussion. And again, he was wrong.

“Well, I can think of something else that might make up for it,” she said shyly, looking at him through her thick lashes. He swallowed, watching her. “You could take me to lunch? Once I’m out of here, of course.”

“Lunch,” he nodded, blinking at her. “Y-yeah, I can. I can do that, of course. I broke your nose, I think I can manage a-an apology lunch.” He tried to smile again, but he couldn’t look at her for too long, she was far too beautiful to look at for too long. She made him so nervous.

Belle smiled. “I should be out tomorrow afternoon, would you pick me up? Is that okay?”

He swallowed and nodded quickly. “Y-yeah. Yes, I, I’ll pick you up, uh, just call me? And I’ll be right over.” He started to leave and Belle sat up a little more.

“Wait!” He spun back around, staring at her in surprise. Belle smiled. “I don’t have your number.”

“Oh,” he let out a breath he didn’t’ realize he’d been holding. “Yeah, uh, here.” He picked up some of the hospital stationary and had to rewrite his number three times before he got it right, then handed the paper to her. “Just uh, whenever you’re ready to go and we’ll, we’ll go. You like chips?” He blurted.

Belle grinned, touching his hand when he gave her the number. “I do, very much. And that sounds good for tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Yeah? Yeah, okay. Okay that sounds, uh, good. Yes. I’ll, I’ll see you then, Belle.”

She smiled at him again and sat back, looking almost...smitten with him.

Nah, that couldn’t be. Must be her painkillers or her just being polite. That was all, all it had to be. He fiddled with his hands as he left, shooting her another small smile as he dipped out and went back to his car. He wouldn’t sleep that night, he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but seeing Belle again and hopefully not making a complete fool of himself.

Belle watched the doorway, her head pounding, then looked at the number in her hands. She smiled, running over the nervous numbers with her thumb and lied down. She was going to lunch with him tomorrow, she didn’t think he’d actually agree. She could only hope she didn’t make a complete fool of herself in front of him.

 


	2. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barney takes Belle to lunch, and it goes about as swimmingly as everything else does.

Barney hadn’t been able to breathe properly since he woke up that morning. He stumbled and shook his way through showering, shaving and dressing, and he gave himself a rather nasty cut on his cheek from being overhasty and far too nervous.

“Fucking Christ!” He spat, holding a towel to the gash. Lunch, it was only lunch, why was he so fucking nervous? Belle was just a person, just another person like him. Just a woman, a beautiful woman with music for a voice, pools of heaven for eyes and the softest looking skin that ever existed. Lunch with an angel, that was all.

He sighed, bowing his head a moment and checked the cut, glad the thin gash was nearly invisible. He looked at himself, smoothing a hand over his stomach, which he hadn’t noticed until now had gotten, well, bigger. He pressed his hand against it, trying to make it invisible as well. He sucked it in, wishing the T-shirt that went under his suit would hide it better, turning to the side to see if that helped and- Fuck he looked fucking ridiculous.

One hand raked through his damp hair and he curled into himself a little. He wasn’t worthy to be in the same country as Belle, let alone take her for lunch. He looked at himself again, at the lines that had formed in his face without his realizing it, how weathered his hands were from all the chemicals and shaving cream and constant wetting without proper moisturizing, and all the gray in his hair. When did this happen? When did he become this fat old man?

“Fuck,” he breathed, brushing his hair back, trying to hide the age. At least that he could conceal to a point.

He changed roughly six times, trying to find something that could make an attempt to make him look younger and...less.

Barney eventually had to rest with the fact that he was ugly, old, plump and a bit useless. Shite flat, shite car, shite self. His entire existence was shite.

But he’d made Belle a promise and he intended to keep it, even if he did embarrass himself to no end.

Belle was waiting at the entrance of the hospital, radiant as ever. However the bruises on her face made him wince internally.

“Right on time,” Belle grinned, walking toward him. The faintest whiff of her perfume washed over him and he feared his knees would visibly shake.

“Well I-I did say I’d be here and uh, well here I am,” he chuckled, smiling at her.

Belle was also nervous, looking at her hands and keeping them clasped in front of her. She wasn’t sure what her angle was here, whether she was just trying to get to know him or she genuinely thought that somehow, some way, Barney might actually be interested in her. He might think she wasn’t anything special at all, just a quiet, pretty little thing trying to feed off the residual fame -or infamy depending on who you asked- that lingered around him, someone to poke for information and see if they could wheedle something out of him.

She hoped he didn’t think that of her, or didn’t suspect it. She wanted to talk to him because she thought he was adorable. He was sweet and soft spoken, gentle, but with an underlying bite that kept him from being entirely knocked down. Pliable steel made stronger under pressure. She liked that. She liked sensing that about him.

And hopefully, when he relaxed around her, they could talk a little easier. But they had to get to lunch first.

Was it a date? It could be if he wanted it to be, but she wouldn’t bring it up unless he did, wouldn’t confess to it unless she was specifically asked. Right now all she wanted to worry about was distracting herself from the pain in her face and spending an afternoon with an incredibly handsome, incredibly considerate and cute barber.

“Well, m’ car’s over here if you wanna head that way,” Barney smiled, nodding toward the tiny little car parked a few yards away. Belle smiled and took his arm, watching color rise in his cheeks. “Right,” he chuckled, shy, and walked her over, holding the door for her and nearly scrambling to hurry up and get her bag in the back seat. It felt wrong putting something of hers in the trunk, where corpses had been.

It was even more odd to sit down at the wheel and the woman beside him wasn’t his mother. He hadn’t driven with someone other than her and Charlie in… He couldn’t remember. He honestly couldn’t fucking remember. Christ, what a boring sod he was.

“Barney?”

He jumped out of his stupor and smiled at her. “Sorry,” he chuckled, pulling away from the curb and going back into town.

“So, I’m gonna guess by your accent you aren’t from here, eh?” He asked. Moe had told him a little but he wanted to hear it from her. Hell, he’d listen to every fucking parliamentary transcript if she was the one reading it out.

“No, I’m from Melbourne,” she nodded. “I’m sure Dad’s told you why we moved.” Her voice got softer, her eyes a little sad and he cursed himself for being such a prick.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, looking over at her as the car rolled to a stop at a light. “You know, uh, I lost my mum too. Few months ago, actually.”

Belle looked over at him, a sort of relief in her saddened eyes. “Nothing like it, is there?” She said quietly. “You feel...lost. Like you can’t tell what direction to go or how to tie your shoes without her around. Even if you’ve been doing things on your own for years, it just...disappears with her.”

Barney swallowed, tentatively reaching over and touching her hand with the most delicate touch he could muster. He didn’t want the callousness of his hands to put her off, but she looked so small over there, too sad with the sun on her as it was. “I couldn’t dress m’self right for a week,” he said, trying to coax a smile from her.

Her eyes met his and she grinned, turning her hand over to briefly embrace his, squeezing gently.

The car behind them honked, notifying the pair that the light was green and Barney quickly dropped her hand to speed off, cursing the fucker behind them that tailgated them for two blocks in their irritation.

“Oh, fuck you, fuckin’ bastard the fuckin’ thing was green for five fuckin’ seconds!” He bellowed as the car whisked past with a hand flipping them off as it passed. Belle giggled, looking over at him.

“What? What’s funny?” He asked, calming immediately, his cheeks coloring in another bout of embarrassment.

“Nothing, I’ve just...never heard you talk like that before,” she chuckled, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“You haven’t been around me that much then,” he laughed, glancing at her while he drove.

“Maybe you behave too much around me,” she suggested, smirking a little at him. He laughed a little, shrugging nervously.

“It’s-it’s old fashioned and ridiculous but I-I really try not to be vulgar in front of ladies who aren’t,” he muttered, glancing at her.

“That is old fashioned,” Belle smiled. “Sweet of you, though. But there’s no need, I promise. I’d rather you be yourself.”

“Who I am is a boring bastard,” he admitted. “Not really interesting at all.”

“Well that’s not true,” she assured. “Anything about you is interesting, Barney. You don’t have to be a superhero or something to be interesting. You’re a barber, that’s plenty interesting.”

“I just cut hair,” he shrugged, pulling into a parking space outside the shop.

Belle smiled, touching him again. He was going to have a heart attack if she kept doing that. He wasn’t used to being handled so kindly. No one had ever really touched him like that before, not ever. He swallowed. “No one ‘just’ does anything. You like doing it, don’t you?” He nodded quickly, his throat closed up being this close to her with her hand on his arm. Belle grinned. “Then that’s not boring at all.”

Barney swallowed, trying to think of something clever or elegant to say. All he blurted was, “Thanks.”

Inside the shop, Barney kept getting glares from patrons and employees. Belle took little bites of her fish and her chips, sipping her drink through a straw to put less strain on her nose. Everyone that passed had this accusing stare, like he’d been the one to hurt her. And he was, incidentally, but not for the reasons they thought. Not a domestic dispute but an accident. It was an accident! He wanted to say that to everyone that scowled at him and gave Belle a quiet look of  ‘are you safe, sweetheart?’ It was an accident!

Belle didn’t seem to notice much. She was eating, smiling at him, grinning when their hands brushed reaching for the ketchup and he ripped his hand back so fast.

“I don’t bite,” Belle assured, patting his hand and watching his chest hitch. She hoped he was alright, he kept doing that and it was starting to worry her.

He smiled nervously at her. “Right. Right, sorry I… I don’t get out much. If you couldn’t tell.”

Belle smiled at him, sipping her drink and keeping her eyes on him. “I don’t either,” she assured. “I spend most of my time with books.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Barney nodded. “You uh, work at the library, yeah?”

“Mmhm, I do. I love it, actually. I like the peace and quiet. I read all the time-”

“So that’s what’s in your bag. Thing was fuckin’ heavy,” he teased, heart skipping yet again when she smiled wide at him. His eyes lingered briefly on her dimples.

“Yes, that’d be why. There’s only five in there, though, you should see what I have to do on holiday,” she smiled.

“Don’t they have those, uh, those electronic books? Or, I guess they hold books. Thousands of ‘em, aye?” He asked, licking salt off his lips and trying not to look into the lingering stare Belle gave his mouth.

“Takes some of the fun out  of it,” she said, meeting his gaze again. “I like how real books feel. The weight of them in my lap, the way they pages feel between my fingers, how the paper smells.” She closed her eyes a moment and sighed. “There’s nothing like it in the world.”

Barney had been hanging off of every word, watching her, the blissful look in her bright eyes, the warm tenderness she had speaking about books. About what she liked so much and he found himself utterly hypnotized by her. She was something else. Something ethereal and strange, but more beautiful than he could possibly comprehend.

“That...that’s definitely a good reason not to get the electronic thing, then,” he nodded, smiling at her. Belle grinned, laughing softly.  

“But what about you? You said you liked cutting hair, right?” She smiled.

“Yes, I do, very much,” he nodded. “Not the most personable guy, apparently, but I like the work. Nice and methodical. Quiet, for the most part. Gets a little rowdy now and again.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Belle nodded. “I’m glad you’re alright. God knows what might’ve happened if that other one had kept going.”

He looked into those chaste, bright eyes blinking at him, brimming with concern and his chest ached for it.

If she only knew. What a monster he’d been spawned from, what a horrible, cowardly little fuck he was. A murderer and a benefactor of circumstance and chance. His existence was a meaningless, unwanted, unnecessary accident that never should have happened and he’d no idea how he could ever tell someone that. Especially someone like Belle. Sweet, happy and thinking the world of him. He already bashed her fucking face in, she didn’t need to know he was the worst murderer on the planet. And that his mother may have been the best.

He couldn’t let Belle know just how cowardly he was, just how much of a nothing he was. She’d figure it out on her own anyway, in time. It never took long before people figured it out and fucked off away from him. He wasn’t worth being around, he wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Getting a little of Belle’s for a short while would be worth it, however. And he’d never chase her, never push his presence on her.

“Like a fucking haunted tree…”

“Barney?”

He did it again, got lost in thought right in front of her. Stupid old man, fuck’s sake…

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “This doesn’t happen often usually, I promise.” He spoke quickly, trying to reassure her that he wasn’t always this fucking embarrassing. “It was luck, I guess. They caught onto what Chris was doing and instead of offing me he got scared and took off. Miracle, really. Everything’s pretty well settled now, though. Only business has stayed up and I think it’ll stay that way. Hope so, anyway.”

Belle smiled at him. “I do too.”

Quiet fell between them and Barney started to panic, scrambling to find something to talk about but he was shite at this, at fucking everything really, but especially talking to, to women. He hadn’t been on a date in at least a decade and a half, hadn’t...done anything in a lot longer and fuck he was so out of practice.

Belle, however, didn’t seem to mind a bit.

She ate contentedly, gave him a warm smile and eventually reached over to hold his hand while she ate.

He stared at their clasped hands a moment, swallowing a mouthful. Belle looked up at him and gave another warm smile. “Do you like to read?” She asked gently, picking up the conversation as if it never ended. She seemed at ease with the quiet, and he appreciated that.

“I do,” he nodded. “Don’t do it much anymore, but I-I do like books, sure.”

“What’s your favorite?” She asked, slowly removing her hand to pull her drink closer. Her skin was so much softer than his. He should really do something about that.

“Uh, I, uh, I like westerns quite a lot,” he muttered shyly. “Always fancied that lone ranger bit they had.”

Belle smiled. “I like those too. I like fantasy better, but there really isn’t a kind of book I don’t like,” she giggled.

“What’s your favorite?” He asked, beaming at her and leaning in closer. Her light was infectious, her smile electric and he couldn’t stop looking at her.

“Hm…” She thought a moment, trying to sort through the thousands of volumes she’d gone through and pick out just one. “Beauty and the Beast,” she decided. “I’ve read it in every language and every version I can get my hands on and I never get tired of it. I really like the story.”

Barney listened to her, smiling at her in such unbelievable awe. Such a wonderful woman, god. He nodded. “I liked that one too,” he nodded. “Ya know, being, uh…” He gestured to himself.

Belle cocked her head, not understanding. “Being what?”

“Well, I, I’m not the most handsome of blokes, am I?” He chuckled at the understatement, but Belle still looked confused.

“I think you are,” she said softly. “I think you’re incredibly handsome, Barney.”

He stared at her, searching her eyes for a lie, for a joke for some sort of tease or quip. She couldn’t be telling the truth about that, how ridiculous was that idea? Him, handsome? The most ridiculous thing in the world. “You...you do?”

“Of course I do,” she said quietly. “I, um, might’ve insisted on going with my father yesterday.”

Barney stared at her, shaking his head a little more. “Is, forgive me for saying, but is this a joke?”

Belle’s smile faded and she looked at him. “Why would I do something like that to you?” She asked, a little angry now.

“I-I dunno,” he said, holding up his hands. “I-I-I’m not accusing you of anything, Belle. I just...I mean look a’ me, and look at you! It, it doesn’t make any sense why you’d want to spend five minutes with me.” He gave her a pleading look, his voice small and wavering and fuck he could hear his mother screaming at him to act like a man for once.

But Belle just looked at him. The anger faded from her eyes and the crease in her brow smoothed. She reached for him again and he fought a wince, but all she did was touch his hand again.

“It’s not a joke,” she said softly, assuring him. “I wouldn’t do that. I wanted to be around you, on my own. No tricks, no jokes, no nothing.”

He just looked at her, and nodded a little, looking at their hands again. “Alright. Alright, Belle. Thank you.”

Belle licked her lips, finishing her food. “No, thank you,” she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze before she stood, putting her coat on before he could think to reach for it and help her. He scrambled up and held the door open for her, his heart skipping when she touched his chest as she passed, smiling up at him.

“You, you want me to take you home?” He asked, looking over at her.

Belle nodded, popping one of her painkillers in her mouth and swallowing hard. “Yeah, once that kicks in I go right to sleep. Won’t be much company then.” She grinned at him and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Alright, just uh, tell me where,” he nodded, pulling away from the curb again to get Belle home.

He followed her directions, which got more giggly and sleepy the more her medicine started to work, and though he was nervous he did think it was rather adorable.

“Here!” Belle suddenly said, and he slammed on the breaks in a panic, throwing his arm out across Belle’s chest so she didn’t get hurt again. “Sorry,” she winced. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be this loopy this quickly, I’m sorry.”

Barney shook his head, glancing up at the apartment complex that was...quite nearly across the street from his own.

“This is gonna sound odd, but we’re neighbors,” he chuckled, nodding to his own building.

“Ha!” Belle started laughing, covering her face and giggling. “I wondered why I saw you around all the time, I thought you had pets!”

She pointed to the pet shop beneath the place and he grinned, shaking his head. “No, Miss French, I sure don’t.”

He opened the door for her again, holding her when she stumbled into his arms and blushed, looking at her.

Belle blinked up at him, pressed to his chest, the city noise around them all the sound either could hear. Belle broke into a wide grin, patting his shoulder.

“Would you mind helping me up?” She asked, nodding to her own apartment building. Barney swallowed and nodded quickly, helping her stand upright and got her bag out for her.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, be careful, alright?” He said. Belle took his arm and his heart fluttered again, carefully guiding her inside, again getting glares from passerby and the person at the front desk. Fuck, how this must look. Battered, drugged up girl with his gawky old arse pulling her along and holding her things. He’d be surprised if there weren’t police already on their way to drag him away from this girl and remind him what a fucking fuck up he was. Useless sod, fucking nothing, no point to him no-

“Thank you,” Belle smiled, stepping into the lift with him. “You’re so kind.”

He smiled back at her. “Well I did, I did cause that,” he said, pointing at her nose.

Belle grinned, laughing softly. “You’re still being very kind. Picking me up, taking me out, it’s very nice.” She touched his chest again and he could only stare at her. She smiled, blinking dazedly. “Your heart is pounding, are you alright?”

He nodded quickly. “Mmhm! Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just fine. Bit worried about you is all.”

She shook her head, waving it off and staggering out of the elevator with him. “I just need to sleep is all, I’m okay.”

As they got further down the hall Belle got heavier. Her eyes were closed longer than they were open, her body heavy and swaying with fatigue.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, digging out her keys and trying to find the right one.

“Here, I-I got it, Belle,” he assured, turning it in the lock and pushing it open. She took one free step forward and nearly face planted into the door frame. He caught her, holding her again and she fought against her medication. “I-I’ll help ya inside, okay?” She nodded gratefully and let him guide her inside.

Barney had no idea how many books one person could own until he came in here. The entire living room was one big bookshelf, save for the furniture and another wall where the TV was mounted, but everything else was a book or some kind of shelf to hold it. Old ones, new ones, hardback, paperback, encyclopedias, collections of fiction, books on just about anything you could ever fucking think of and they were all right in here the Belle French Library.

“You really do like to read,” he breathed.

She smiled at him and nodded. “Told you. I love books.” She nodded toward the open doorway.

Barney tried letting go of her to set her bag down and hopefully Belle could get to her sofa by herself. However she took one staggering step in the opposite direction and he was catching her again, nearly falling over with her.

“Sorry!” She exclaimed. “Can’t even walk, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think they’d be this strong,” she lamented, looking guilty. He shook his head quickly.

“No, it’s alright. It’s alright, Belle, I have you. Okay? I’ll help you, it’s alright. Is, is your bedroom that way?” He asked, looking in the direction she’d been going. She nodded once, still fighting hard to stay awake.

He didn’t want to drag her there. He didn’t want to scuff up her floor or her shoes or risk hurting her, so he picked her up.

Belle squeaked in surprise and giggled when he started saying his apologies very loudly in his nervousness and she shook her head. “No, no, you’re fine,” she promised. “You’re just fine, okay? It’s okay, don’t worry.”

He swallowed, careful not to touch her legs or think about how her skirt was riding up and what a fucking arse he was being around her when she was this out of her wits, and carried her into her bedroom.

Just a wee bookshelf in here, next to her dresser across from her bed, a few paperbacks with bookmarks piled on the nightstand. He gently set her down on her bed and she forced herself up, struggling to get her coat off before looking at him helplessly.

“I gotcha,” he mumbled, blushing again as he took it off her and hung it on the hook by her door. He tried not to focus on how intently she was looking at him, kneeling in front of her to help get her shoes off too. His fingers shook a little, absolutely flustered and it was very hard to breathe faced with those pale, shapely legs in all their silken glory begging for his lips, for his touch, for something-

God, he was fucking sick.

He straightened back up and smiled at her as best as he could. She gave him a lazy smile back, working to get under the blankets he also helped get her into tucking her in. “I, I’ll get you some water and I’ll be on my way, okay? I’ll leave my number in case you, you need something. I know you got your da, but I, uh, I’m much closer. Not that, that means anything but-”

Belle cupped his face and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek, lying back down and still smiling her dreamy grin. “Thank you, Barney.” He swallowed, staring at her, and smiled back at her.

“Not a problem, Belle.”

He turned to leave, a little out of it himself and he wondered briefly if this was just a dream and he was about to wake up in his bed soaked in sweat and ashamed.

“You know,” Belle said softly before he could get out of earshot. He looked back at her, “as far as first dates go, this isn’t even close to the worst I’ve had.”

His brows rose, lips parted in a quiet surprise. “Date?”

By the time he asked it Belle was fast asleep. Her dark curls were splayed over the pillows, a delicate hand beside her pink lips, the blue of her blankets bringing out the porcelain of her skin. He lost his breath a moment, just looking at her.

Then he realized he wasn’t helping the ‘leering old bastard’ stereotype he was currently succumbing to and ducked out of the room.

He found the kitchen, grinning that there were even more books in here too, and got her a glass of water, leaving it and both his phone number and the number to the barber’s shop on a slip of paper he left underneath.

He left with a sigh, making sure her door was locked behind him and quickly left the building, shaking his head. Honestly, as far as first dates went, this wasn’t his worst either.

In fact it might’ve been the best date he’d ever had.

 

 


	3. Date....again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barney is utterly convinced Belle's going to loathe him, and Belle sets out to prove the barber wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the gap in updating. Between the holidays and some family emergencies AND college it's been a rough going but things should be better now! Thank you for sticking with this!

Peaceful, serene stillness. Just the soft sound of bristles on wood, dust and hair floating through the beams of waning sunlight filtering in through the door. The rhythm of it synced with his heartbeat and the gentle tune caught in his head. No cares or worries met him here. No criticisms, no doubts or insecurities could reach him here, at his favorite part of each day. Ten til four to ten after four, when he swept up, double checked the till and made sure everything was alright for the next morning. Just twenty minutes of utter peace. 

So when the bell above the door sounded, interrupting that peace, he paused his sweeping, frowning at the skipped record feeling that came with it. “Sorry, we’re closed up-” he said, looking up to greet whomever had opened the door. 

Belle was leaning in the doorway, her clothes indistinguishable under the long black coat she had on. Her eyes caught the late sun, reflecting all that color right back at him, kissing her pale skin perfectly. Barney forgot how to breathe, swallowing repeatedly. He gripped the brook tight in his hands, which had started to sweat upon seeing her. “-n-now.” Belle gave a shy laugh, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I know, um, I wanted to see you,” she said, flicking the sign to ‘closed’ and drawing the shade on the door down. “If that’s alright?” 

He swallowed yet again. “Uh, y-yes. Yes. Um. So I suppose this is a personal visit then?” He asked, smiling nervously at her. Belle laughed a little, walking up to him now, touching the broom above his hand and easing it away from him.

“Unless you started cutting women’s hair since I’ve been gone it would have to be a personal visit, wouldn’t it?” She asked, her voice soft and gentle, wrapping around him like a soft spring breeze. 

“Oh,” he laughed, still unbearably nervous. “R-right, yeah. I uh… Right. I guess I dinnaethink- I uh, I thought maybe your dad might, uh- But that’d be silly he works down the street, don’ ‘e? So. I-I dunno what I was thinkin’ but you’re just- I mean you’re-” 

The soft, gentle pink velvet of Belle’s lips met his own, and he melted into it like a marshmallow in hot chocolate. Her delicate hand worked into his hair, the gentle scent of her perfume and shampoo encasing him in a sunlight-like warmth, blocking out any and all dark thoughts that might attempt to break through. 

Belle carefully pulled away, still smiling at him while he caught his breath. “I like you, Barney,” she said softly. “A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you, about being with you.” 

He stared down at her. “Being with me?” 

“I want you.” She spoke so softly, close enough her lips brushed his chin when she spoke. He took another shaky breath, unsure where to put his hands until she placed them securely on her waist. 

“W-want me to, to what now?” He asked, staring at her with wide eyes because she couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she meant. Belle laughed a little again, amused, not mocking. 

She pressed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him down into his barber’s chair. “I mean…” She slid the coat off her shoulders. “I want you.” 

Belle wasn’t wearing much of anything under her coat. Deep blue lingerie laced with gold decorated her body, hugging her perfectly. The sun made the satin of her panties glint, outlined the shapely-ness of her black clad legs, her breasts straining against the bustier. Barney suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, looking at her like this. 

“Understand now?” She coaxed, climbing up into his lap. He tensed, raising his hands above his shoulders so as not to touch anything he wasn’t supposed to and immediately began stammering. 

“B-Belle, I, I dunno about this. A-anyone could see us, just takes a peek at the right time and I-I’m not sure I want- We hardly know each other,” he tried, blushing and unable to form a properly coherent thought at the moment. 

“Oh, that’s part of the fun,” she smiled, pressing her chest against him. He kept his hands off, flustered and overwhelmed. He was scared, really, but he couldn’t admit that to himself. He’d just have to convince Belle to hold off, to at least wait until they were in a bed or...or somewhere darker where he could hide better. He was embarrassed, scared and unsure. 

“Belle, wait, I-I don’t… I don’t want this right now, not here, I…” 

Belle stopped, her smile falling, a darkness entering her expression. “What?” 

“I just, I… It’s been a long time and I’m not, I don’t-” 

A hard, brutal slap met his face, so close to the way his mother struck him it made him cry out both in surprise and pain. He flinched away from her, ducking his head obediently. That was safe. 

“Pathetic,” she spat. “You’re so fucking pathetic. You make me sick. I tried. You hear me, I tried, and I can’t fucking stand you. Disgusting how worthless you are, you fucking bastard son of nothing. I can’t stand the bloody sight of you.” The more she spoke, the more she sounded like his mother. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Belle, please-” She hit him again. 

“Fuck’s sake, shut up!” She wasn’t Belle now. Not at all, this wasn’t Belle. “Blubbering fuck, look at you.” She jabbed a nail into his stomach and he whimpered, trying to curl away from her. He dared to meet her gaze, and it wasn’t Belle at all looking back at him, it was his mother, scowling at him. “I never saw the fuckin’ point of you.” 

“M-Mum-” 

“Barney? Barney!” 

The barber jolted awake, looking around wildly a moment. The city. Quiet corner. Quiet bench where he ate lunch, which was finished and balled up beside him, with Charlie on the other. 

“You alright there, Barney?” Charlie asked. He nodded, staring straight ahead. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I, I dozed off a bit.” He swallowed, running a hand over his face. 

“What’d you do that for?” Charlie blinked. 

“Well I dinnae mean to!” He exclaimed, shaking his head at him. “Didnae set out to do it on purpose. It was an accident. What do y’ want, Charlie?” 

“What happened to that wee lass that stopped at the shop awhile ago? I saw ya talkin’ together.” 

“I broke her nose and took her for lunch,” he sighed. “That was it.” 

“What’d you break her nose for?” 

“I didn’t fuckin’ mean to!” He barked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It was an accident.” 

“Happens a lot around you, eh?” Charlie chuckled, clearly amused. 

Barney’s cheek twitched, eyes darkening a fraction. “Strangling you wasn’t,” he reminded, voice soft, dangerous. Charlie quieted and the barber felt some triumph in that success. “I should get back to work now, Charlie,” he said, standing, smiling as if nothing had happened. “Cheerio!” 

“S-see ya, Barney.” 

He walked away with a rare smirk on his face. 

It faded quickly on his walk back, the clouds settling in his heart. He hadn’t heard from Belle since he dropped her off at her apartment, and he assumed his thoughts had been correct about her finding his actions invasive and entirely unacceptable. He acknowledged that, cursed himself for it continuously for the entire walk there. He was used to good things running from him, slipping away, and he could never blame people for leaving him, for using him, for being sick of him, for wanting to be rid of him. He was a piece of shite, despite what the patrons of the shop thought. 

He was nothing and it was good that Belle learned it now than later down the road when she really regretted the time wasted on him. He hoped she didn’t regret the lunch that much. 

Two weeks seemed enough of a sign that he should forget about her, her smile, her dimples, her laugh, and just...move on. 

Move on to what, though? 

He went into the shop, apologizing to the newer barbers for his tardiness, claiming time had gotten away from him and immediately went to his business cutting the next head of hair. He didn’t talk much through them, grunting his response of yes or no, forcing laughs, apologizing and warning them of a severe migraine if they asked if he was alright. 

This went on for an hour or two before something changed. 

“Barney?” He looked up from the head he’d been working on, looking back at the barber who spoke. “There’s a girl on your car, mate.” 

“What?” He frowned, turning back and looking out the glass of the door. 

There was, in fact, a girl on his car. 

“Uh, would, would ya mind finishing him up for me? Sorry, pal,” he said to the customer, who gave him a wry smile and ribbed him a little, but he wasn’t focusing on their words. 

Dressed in a yellow dress and a purple coat, hair down around her shoulders, floating in the soft wind, Belle was leaning on the hood of Barney’s car, a worn copy of  _ Wuthering Heights _ between her hands, full attention on it instead of him, which he was grateful for at first. He could look at her a bit, regain his bearings before he chanced speaking to her. 

Her pale, shapely legs were crossed at the ankle, tall heels tapping at the pavement as she read. The light danced in her hair, bringing out colors he hadn’t noticed before and ignited her eyes, just as it had in his dream. Nightmare. Anxiety struck him at that remembrance, and he was suddenly worried this could go very wrong. 

“B-Belle?” He said, ducking his head to meet her eyes. 

She jumped, snapping the book shut, startled, but she grinned when she saw him. “Barney!” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you-” 

“No! No, it’s alright! I mean- Sorry, I’m at the ghost part, so it did startle me a little, but that’s not your fault. You aren’t psychic are you?” She giggled. He smiled back. 

“Well if, if I were I don’t think I’d be a barber,” he grinned. Well, maybe. He’d likely still be a damn barber in this damn shop trying to rise above mediocrity, hearing what people truly thought of him all the time. It sounded maddening. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” she said softly, looking a bit embarrassed, hugging her book. 

“No, it, it’s fine, I’m not… I understand, it’s alright,” he assured, looking wilted. Belle shook her head, recognizing the look. 

“No, no, no, that’s not why! It’s nothing you did; you didn’t do anything wrong,” she promised. “It’s me. All me, okay? The um, the water you put on my table? It dripped on the paper you wrote your number on and it ran all over the place, I couldn’t read it.” 

“Well...I mean, you know where I work, it’s not like birds- ladies! have to be invited in or anything,” he mumbled. 

Belle flushed, and he was breathless again. “See, that’s where this gets um, embarrassing. I...was nervous to come and talk to you again. You’re a little...intimidating, Barney.” 

He blinked at her in pure disbelief. “I...what now?” 

“Well, you are a bit of a legend around here, Mr. Thomson,” she muttered, looking shy and guilty. Barney looked at her, shaking his head and laughing a little. 

“That...that makes no bloody sense,” he chuckled. “Really?” She nodded, expression genuine. “Well that...wow.” 

“So I worked up the courage and I wanted to wait and see if you would, um, if you would like to have dinner with me tonight,” she smiled, watching his cheeks turn as red as his work jacket. 

“I...I would like that very much, I… I have about fifteen minutes before I lock up but, um… Yeah, I-I’ll be right back, okay?” He backed up from her, nearly tripping and falling on his face. “Don’t go anywhere, now,” he smiled. She shook her head, opening her book again. 

“I’ll be right here, I promise.” 

Barney tripped back into the shop, only leaving a bit early because of the encouragement of the other barbers, who were pretty astounded themselves that Moe French’s girl was waiting to go to dinner with him. 

Barney came out fifteen minutes later on the dot, smiling nervously at Belle, who beamed at him. “Timely, aren't you?” She grinned. 

He blushed. “Well I...I hate to keep a lady waiting.”

Belle giggled, shaking her head at him. “I can drive if you want? Seeing as I surprised you with this.”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” he smiled. “What, uh, what did you have in mind? I mean- I know you wanted to go to dinner, but-but I mean, uh, where?” 

Belle smiled, cocking her head. “Well, you know the area better than I do. Anywhere you particularly like?” 

He smiled at her, relieved his stammering and embarrassing behavior didn’t put her off. “Yeah. Yeah, I know a place.” 

~*~ 

It was a soft, quiet place, brimming with deep, rich wood and warm lighting. Nestled in a corner, the soft scent of salt and fried foods clinging to the table legs and worn floor, the gentle tinkling of pint glasses knocking together as the bartender served the few patrons. 

It was nice. 

Belle smiled across the table at him, sipping her iced tea with ease now that her bruises were gone. 

“Did, um, you heal up alright?” Barney asked, his soft voice easily found in here. And Belle didn’t mind his soft spoken nature, his shyness around her. She knew that would fade, in time, when he could trust her. And honestly it was just adorable. Every look with those big, puppy brown eyes through raised eyebrows warmed her heart. She nodded, smiling again. 

“I did. Healed nice and clean. Didn’t even hurt that much,” she smiled. “I, um, I’m really sorry about how our lunch ended. I had no idea it would do that to me. Not a clue and I know that was really uncomfortable.” 

“No, no, it’s alright! I was uh, I was more worried about upsetting you, really. Creepy old man carrying you around your apartment building? Kind of thing you hear about perverts on the news,” he said, chuckling anxiously. 

Belle shook her head, reaching out and touching his hand. “Hey,” she said softly. “You aren’t creepy, you’re not old, and you aren’t a pervert.” She giggled a little. “You’re a kind, sweet, albeit nervous man. And I like spending time with you.” 

He blinked and gave a disbelieving little laugh, shaking his head. “I...I appreciate it Belle. Very much. Thank you.” 

She cocked her head, gently running her thumb over his knuckles, watching goosebumps shoot up his arm. “You don’t believe me, do you?” He shifted a little, bringing his shoulders in tighter after a tiny shrug. “It’s alright if you don’t,” she assured. 

“No one thinks I’m worth a damn, Belle,” he said softly, looking pained. “Not my mum, not my dad- fuck, he wasn’t even my dad. Never had any mates for more than a couple years. Never married, never had anything close to a family of my own. It’s always just been me. But I understand. I’m not… Apart from that stroke of luck-” and accidental but careful maneuvering and events of the universe, “-I’m nothin’. Just a barber you shouldn’t even be in the same fuckin’ city with.” 

“I think you’re worth more than a stroke of luck, Barney,” she said softly. “And I’ve only just met you-” 

“You’ll see then!” He interrupted. “You’ll see it and then regret every fucking moment you wasted on me.” 

“Is that what other people say?” She pressed. He relaxed, wilting and nodding at his hands. Belle reached and took one again, looking at him until he raised his eyes to her. “I know it’s hard. I know it’s nearly impossible to even fathom that someone wants to spend time with you when you’ve been told the opposite for so long. But I promise, Barney, I won’t be one of those people. I’m not going to regret you.” 

His cheek twitched with a tiny smile, looking at Belle’s pale hand being engulfed by his. He closed his hand around hers,  holding it properly. “Okay,” he nodded. “Okay I… I’ll do what I can to believe you. Do m’ best.” 

She grinned and his heart swelled about six sizes. Barney Thomson resolved, then, to at least allow himself to be keen to the idea of Belle liking him, holding onto that bit of confidence he’d gained since the whole Body Parts Killer rage. Belle liked him, and he definitely liked her. 

~*~ 

“Oh, you do too know how!” 

“I mean it, I don’t!” He was giggling, and so was Belle, arms around waists, drunk on each other and laughing their way through the park. Soft music played over the treetops from a concert not that far off, adding mystique to the surrounding dimly lit area. 

“Everyone knows how to dance a little,” she goaded, facing him. 

He shook his head, cheeks and ears burning. “Belle, I broke your nose without even trying, if I’m that clumsy there there’s no telling what might happen if I try and dance with you.” 

“Here.” Belle took his hands, walking off the concrete trail into a large patch of grass where no rocks, trees, benches or other obstructions were around. If Belle or he fell, they’d be caught by the lawn and the worst thing that could happen was grass and mud stains. “There, see? Nothing to hurt me.” 

“Except me,” he chuckled. 

She cupped his cheek, watching his eyes spark in the warm lamplight. “Trust yourself. I trust you.” 

A new song started at the venue, faint cries of joy from the fans wafting on the wind with the notes. Belle blinked up at him, soft and shy now. He tentatively took her waist and held her other hand, pulling her close and swaying gently with her in slow, careful circles. 

Belle moved with him, letting him lead and losing herself in the way he was looking at her. No one had ever given her that look before. Like she was made of the stars above their heads, like she was far too beautiful to comprehend. He looked at her with warmth and care and her heart responded to it in every possible way. It skipped a few beats, gripping his hand tighter, pressing closer to him, trying to soothe that nervousness. 

The longer they moved the more he relaxed, the more he trusted himself, even risking spinning her, smiling when she giggled and fell back into his arms. 

He slipped then, falling back and nearly knocking his head against the ground, accidentally pulling her with him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” He gasped, catching her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- The sod it- Fuckin’ hell, see? I told you-” 

Belle was laughing still, cheeks pinked by the wind, smiling so wide her doe eyes were overtaken by her cheeks, dimples deep and she was looking at him the way no other woman or person in general ever had. He softened, worry disappearing with her luminous laughter. 

“That was fun,” she grinned, lightly brushing his hair back with gentle fingers. 

“Well I’m glad ya think so, Belle,” he chuckled. 

They just looked at each other for a moment, smiles fading to an understanding of what might be expected to happen next. Barney hadn’t kissed anyone in decades, what if he was shite at that too? Out of practice with all of this and he had next to no experience anyway. He didn’t want to disappoint Belle, he-

He forgot that Belle took her own initiative for things like this, things she wanted, and soon she was kissing him. 

It was more wonderful than he’d dreamed. Her mouth was soft and warm, eager to kiss him and brimming with the utmost passion to be close to him. He let her lead this, kissing her back, shaking hands on her waist, one daring to travel into her hair and then cupping her cheek. 

They broke apart gasping, noses bumping against each other, the damp of the grass underneath them seeping into her dress and his suit, and soon it would be uncomfortable. But it was perfect. 

“I-I haven’t done that in a very long time,” he swallowed. “Very, very long time.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” she whispered, pressing into his touch. “But I haven’t really either. Not like that.” 

“I couldnae tell either.” 

They looked at each other another moment and they kissed again, just as deeply, just as strongly, until Barney felt that guilt gnawing at him. That knowledge he’d kept to himself, of what a monster he truly was, what he would become because of his mother. The things he’d done and this sweet girl had no idea. He broke away first, looking away briefly. 

“I-is something wrong?” Belle asked, confused, sitting up when he did. 

“No,” he said, smiling but not looking up at her. “No, I just… I…” 

Belle touched his arm, meeting his eyes. “We can take this as slow as you need to. Nothing wrong with that, okay?” 

“You’re sure?” 

_ “BE A MAN FOR ONCE, WILL YEH?!”  _ He pursed his lips to chase that voice away, coming back to himself when Belle kissed his cheek. 

“I’m very sure. Now come on, I want some ice cream and you promised,” she giggled. He stood, smiling, managing to put his murders and his mother’s serial killer status out of mind while he walked back toward the street with Belle. He even felt better. 

He might actually tell Belle. Someday. Just not tonight. He wanted to have tonight.


	4. Still More Bad Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barney has a serious breakdown. Luckily someone special is around to help.

He sort of...woke up here. One moment he was in the graveyard, the next he was sitting on a bench a mile away, soaked to the bone with rain bombarding him. His hair stuck to his face, arms wrapped around himself, hugging so tight. He was shaking from cold and his panicked sobs. Regaining motion seemed impossible. He truly, truly wanted to leave here, get back in his car and go home and just wait for Belle to get back from her holiday with her father.

But he couldn’t move. Or breathe. Or really distinguish what the fuck was going on around him. The rain hissed but he couldn’t hear it. Lightning and thunder sounded above while wind whipped at his body, as if prodding him to pay attention to it, but it was impossible. He felt nothing and everything at once, numb and alert, just… Panicked. So very, very panicked. 

It was as though he was on a rollercoaster alone, not strapped down and rushing through the air so hard and so fast any motion would send him hurtling to his death. Down, down to Hell where Wullie and Chris and Mum were waiting for him- 

His eyes squeezed shut and he cried out, trying to send it away, all the nasty thoughts plaguing his tired head. But no, no there would be no relief here, would there? 

“Barney?” The voice echoed miles away, reverberating off the trees and the grass of the park. Even the bench sounded with the sweet echoes of something as gentle as that voice. A familiar voice. “Barney? Barney!” 

He didn’t see the familiar car pull up to the road all the way across the park. He didn’t hear the quick clicks of heels on concrete, and his name didn’t really register with him until he felt a startlingly warm hand on his face. 

Barney jumped, looking through the heavy drops of water and finding a part of striking blue eyes through the mist, half hidden under the dark yellow hood of her coat. The dim light of the streetlamp made her all the more enchanting, haloing her against the bleak evening sky. His brows cinched, unable to speak but he certainly was very confused about her presence. 

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s alright, are you hurt? Hm?” She asked, looking him over hastily. “What’s wrong? Barney, what’s the matter, sweetheart? Talk to me?” 

He tried. Barney tried to talk to her, to get a single word out but it wouldn’t come. His lips clamped together and he shook his head with a pitiful whimper, throat closing on him, muting him. He shook harder. 

“Shh, shh, that’s okay. That’s alright, let’s, let’s get you out of the rain. You’ll catch your death out here, sweetheart, come on.” 

He let her move him without seeing where she was even taking him. He felt the hot pressure jolting his numb hands back to life as she led him off the bench toward the way she’d come from. He walked without thinking, registering everything there on at a base level. 

Car. Seatbelt. Heater. Engine. Go. Stop, go, stop, go, go, go, stop, turn… The route felt familiar, and he was grateful for that. Perhaps she was just taking him home and would dump his useless hide in his shite flat and be done with it. Or he’d wake up from this strange dream where Belle was here instead of London, with him. 

He couldn’t discern what she was saying, but he knew she was talking to him. It was like a soft balm against his chapped cheeks and lips, slowly working warmth back into his hands as she touched them with her own. It spread from his arms and his nose to his throat and his chest, settling there and refusing to reach out beyond his thighs. 

By the time he could speak and comprehend everything properly, he was sitting on Belle’s sofa on some towels, one wrapped around his shoulders. Belle was still talking somewhere out of sight, her voice floating on the air like sweet music, just as soothing and caring as a lullaby. He really wished he could stop crying. 

He opened his mouth when Belle came back in, but the words were stuck behind the lump in his throat, trapped there. 

“Shh,” Belle soothed, cupping his face and sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything, okay?” She smiled, drying his face and his hair with a soft pink towel. It smelled like flowers, and like her. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, words breaking through painfully. “I-I dunno what’s- I’m sorry, I cannae stop. I-I’m trying, Belle, I’m-” 

“Shh…” She said again, hugging him, her lips pressed to his ear. “Barney, I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that for me?” He nodded weakly. She gently took his hand and pressed to her chest, then did the same to him. “Breathe with me, Barney. In and out, alright? In...out. In...out, good, good, that’s wonderful. In…” It took him a moment not to panic all the more with Belle’s soft breast beneath his palm, feeling as though he was intruding on her space, that this wasn’t the least bit appropriate. 

But he listened to her, breathing with her, as she asked. It worked very soon, his heartbeat slowing to a reasonable rate, allowing his panic to settle in his gut and the cold adrenaline was over him in a sweat. 

“There,” she smiled. “See? Much better. You were having a panic attack, Barney, that’s all. It’s alright now. You’re just fine.” 

“I don’t mean to be- I-I-I shouldn’t be like this in front of ye, Belle, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please-” 

Belle pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, holding his face between her hands. “You never, ever have to worry about something like that, Barney,” she assured gently. “Not with me, okay? You’re just fine, just as you are. It’s okay to cry.” She thumbed under his eyes, feeling his cheeks pink. She kissed his forehead again. “Did something happen?” 

“I don’t remember,” he said quietly. “I was goin’ to put flowers on Mum’s grave and-”  A shudder worked through him, skin paling to a sickly color and he retched just as Belle slid the trash bin between his knees. His eyes burned as much as his bile-abused throat, shame cinching around his bones. That ache in the pit of his stomach, so familiar and hated. He felt Belle move closer and he winced instinctively, waiting for a blow. 

Instead she gently pulled his hair back, caressing him and shushing him with the kindest voice. 

He was an absolute mess on her sofa. A sniveling, dropping, sobbing, vomiting mess. And things had been going so well. 

Belle was sweet and kind and had immediately told him she wanted to go out again, and soon, when he dropped her off in front of her building. She’d kissed him goodnight, watched him walk across the street to his own place and he gave a shy wave before disappearing inside. 

They’d been on several dates now. Dinners, walks, he even took her to the library and sat with her while she read. How perfect she looked, legs curled underneath her, the book almost to her nose. He hadn’t noticed he’d dozed off until he felt an unfamiliar touch; her lips on his forehead, waking him gently and apologizing for boring him. He swore to her that it was perfect. Waking to those sparkling stars in her eyes made it entirely perfect. 

He bought her books and left them resting in brown paper and ribbon on top of her car during the times they couldn’t see each other for some reason or another. Just paperback things he either enjoyed reading himself and had it at home or ones he saw in the shops that he thought she might like. 

The first time he did it she kissed him so deeply he thought he might never breathe again. 

Belle didn’t mind boring, it seemed. She liked simple things, like a rose or a book or a walk. She liked the quiet, liked to read, liked to have him close to her when they sat somewhere together. She touched him willingly and often, kissed him as if she craved him and he was so glad for it, because he could never be brave enough to kiss her first. 

He didn’t dare call her his girlfriend. Too presumptuous, he thought, too much too soon. Three weeks was too soon to say things like that, if people Belle’s age even said things like that anymore. No, he thought it best to keep his mouth shut and just let it happen as it was. A disturbance in the bliss might knock Belle back to her senses and she’d leave. Barney had nightmares all the time that she was gone, he didn’t want to tempt his inevitably bad fate. 

Things had been going so, so well, even with the guilt wrapped around his timid heart. Not for what he’d done, those were accidents. It was the secret from her gentle face and sharp tongue that he was ashamed of. The secret of his mother hanging around him like a dark cloud. Those thoughts only dredged up once his time with Belle was done and he was back in his lonely, hollow flat with nothing but the silence to greet him. 

So of fucking course he had to go and cock it up like this. 

He swallowed, trying to put the attention elsewhere. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” He asked quietly. “I-I mean you’re supposed to be in London, so I thought…” 

“I, um, I didn’t want to be at the festival anymore,” she said, just as quiet. “I helped Papa with the flowers and...then I left. Wasn’t really for me, it turns out.” Barney frowned but didn’t press her. He was trembling too hard to speak properly anyway. “What matters is, I’m here now,” she smiled. “And thank God I am. You could’ve caught pneumonia sitting out there like that all night. She smiled at him, giving him some water to rinse his mouth. “Speaking of which, you have to get out of those wet clothes before you catch hypothermia.” 

He nodded, standing shakily. “Yes,s yes, I-I’ll go, um, thank you, Belle, I, I hope I didn’t trouble you too much.” 

“What? Oh, no, no, no you don’t, Mr. Thomson, you’re not going back out in that storm.” She took his shoulders and guided him back down to the couch. 

“Belle, I just live across the street,” he said with a gentle laugh. 

“Mmhm, and that trip could be what gets you sick. You’re inside where it’s warm and you aren’t going anywhere until the rain lets up.” She spoke firmly but playfully, stroking his hair back away from his face. “I think I have a robe you can wear while your clothes dry, alright?” She left before he could protest. 

Barney sighed, bowing his head, hanging it between his legs, focusing on his breathing. He tried to think of some other reason he’d panic so badly at the cemetery. What kind of thing could cause a reaction like that? How could he possibly end up in such a pathetic state? He knew the answer. It was the only one that made sense. Just the  _ thought _ of her, of seeing that rock with her name carved in, seeing the only thing left of  _ her _ even after all this time was too much. Oh, it was much too much. 

And now he was in Belle’s flat, puke in her bin, water all over her carpet and furniture and...and he was making a travesty of this entire relationship. He sighed, covering his face and trying not to cry again. 

“Shh…” Gentle hands on his shoulders, easing away the jacket, the tie, undoing the dress shirt… Belle’s hands were so warm and careful with him, the soft words whispered into his ear just as comforting. He didn’t get too nervous  and flustered until he was sitting in his undershirt, blushing profusely. 

“Belle, I, um…” 

“Oh!” She blushed right back. “I-I’m sorry, here,” she said shyly, pressing the robe into his hands. “You can change in the laundry room, it’s just through there, I’m so sorry.” 

He shook his head, pressing a little kiss to her hair and offering a tiny smile as he ducked into the other room to change and certainly not look at the lacy undergarments on the drying rack that clearly weren’t meant for him to see at this moment. 

Belle shut her eyes, running a hand through her hair. Her own heart was settling into a regular rhythm. Her poor, sweet barber going through all of that alone. Anything could have happened to him and she’d been so worried when he wouldn’t answer her calls. He always answered, every single time, without hesitation and she...decided looking for him wouldn’t be so bad. She’d explain why she left as she did another time. Tomorrow, perhaps, when he was in a better state. He didn’t need to hear about all that right now. 

Her phone buzzed in her purse and she glared at it, stalking over to it and silencing the phone altogether. She had better things to worry about right now. “Fucker,” she muttered, realizing not for the first time that her language had become more...colorful, since she began dating Barney. She kind of liked it. 

She heard the dryer start up and moments later Barney stepped out, wrapped up tight in the robe that went to his knees, looking shyly at her as he stepped closer, checking constantly to be sure he was completely covered. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his hair soft and curling around his face gently. He looked gorgeous. It took her breath a moment. 

“It’s no trouble,” she assured, guiding him back to the couch and wrapping a thick throw blanket around him. “I can make you some tea? It’ll warm you up quicker,” she nodded, kissing his cheek. He nodded back, still shy, shifting a little when she walked away. Now he was damp, naked, wrapped in a few layers of fabric on Belle’s sofa trying not to feel so...exposed and hideous as he was certain he was. He pushed his hair back out of his face, agitated with it. 

He felt so sick and so tired. Weary of himself, of this feeling, of his mother and the rest of the shite running around in his stupid head. He never should have talked to her, looked at her, even remotely been around Belle anymore. He was so useless and pathetic, so fucking disgusting- 

“Barney?” He looked up at her, the black clouds around him clearing quickly. She was just...pure, pure light. She pushed a mug of tea into his hand and sat across from him on the table again. “Alright?” 

He nodded a moment, sipping the tea already made how he took it, then looked at her...then shook his head. Belle softened, cupping his face again. He pressed into her soft hand, shutting his eyes briefly. 

“You can talk to me, if you want,” she said quietly. 

He let out a shaky breath, looking at the tea, then sat back up to look at her. “I went, went to my mum’s grave. I went just to… Well that’s what you do, isn’t it? And I, I remember going there. Parking. Walking up to the headstone. I put the flowers down and stood there a minute and...then everything else is blank. Nothin’ til you’re in front of me.” He swallowed, chewing his lip. “Can you really panic that much?” 

“Yes,” she said quietly, touching his knee to keep him grounded. “Why, why would something like that happen, Barney?” 

“You, you don’t wannae hear about that, Belle,” he assured, swallowing another mouthful of tea that burned his throat. 

“But I do,” she assured softly. “You’re safe with me, Barney, you can tell me anything.” 

_ I killed two people, found out my mum was a fucking serial killer, watched four police officers kill themselves and framed one of the fuckers I killed for being the murderer instead and now I’m Mr. Popular because of it and without that happening I’d still be nothing. Instead I’m the spawn of  a Monster, Belle, just a fucking monster. _

Those words were so close to bursting from his lips he wasn’t sure for a moment if he hadn’t actually said them. He swallowed again, looking up at her. At Belle’s bright, innocent eyes, her kind expression and the sweetness in her that filled the apartment like her books. It seeped into every nook and cranny like a virus he desperately wanted to catch. He wanted Belle to consume all of the dark thoughts and feelings lurking inside of him and banish his fears and pain, or just bask in her light, just for a little while longer. 

If he told her all that? He’d lose her, and likely go to prison as well, which terrified him. Losing Belle, not incarceration. A monotonous routine for years at a time, oh no, how would he cope? But he...he didn’t want to lose her. 

He could open up to her. Speak to her like he’d never done with anyone else before. That’s a start. 

“My mother...she wasnae very keen on the idea of raising me. Or...me in general. She wasnae very good to me either. Told me I was useless, worthless. Just...just nothin’ at all. I was never good enough for her, never anything special to her. She told me so…almost every day for as long as I can remember.” 

“Barney…” She said softly, pain in her face now. 

“She, uh, drank quite a bit. Yelled a lot, gambled, dragged me along to her bingo games when I was, was supposed to be in school the next morning, ya know? It...it wasn’t the worst of it, though, she…” He cleared his throat, trying to work through fresh tears. 

“She hurt you.” Belle had tears in her eyes, placing a soft hand on his face, which he graciously leaned into. It wasn’t a question. He nodded a little, his lips shaking. 

“E-everyone’s parents do things like that though, righ’?” He whispered, looking at her. “Right?” 

“They aren’t supposed to,” Belle said, just as quiet. “They aren’t supposed to do anything like that. Talk to you like that, hit you...nothing like that.” 

He sniffed, taking a breath. “Suppose that just makes me a useless fuck anyway, eh?” He rasped. 

“Barney, you aren’t alone,” she assured. “My father says horrible things to me all the time and-” She stopped, folding her lips and shaking her head a little. 

He frowned, startled by that. “Your father?” 

“It’s nothing,,” she assured. “This isn’t about me, Barney, this is about you. Parents aren’t supposed to harm their children, but that doesn’t mean they don’t do it. It has nothing to do with what you’re ‘worth’ or how ‘good’ you are, it’s their choice. Not yours, sweetheart.” 

He wouldn’t pry, he wouldn’t do that to her when they were both emotionally taxed. He’d no right to demand anything from her anyway. 

“It hurt,” he choked out, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not just from her hitting me, it…” 

“You feel it in your bones,” Belle said quietly, looking at her lap now. “Like something crawling around and squeezing your heart.” He nodded sadly. 

“Horrible fuckin’ feeling.” He ducked his head, tears welling in his eyes and spilling over. “I  _ hate _ her, and I, I don’ all at once. I can’t stand how it makes me feel, it’s like it’s eating me alive just to think of her. Of what she said, of what it means that’s she’s gone and how fucking empty I feel even though all she did was hollow me out. I dunno who I am, Belle, I-” 

She kissed him, cutting him off. He melted into her arms, clumsily putting the teacup beside her on the table so he could hold her while she did. She took his breath with her lips, his own soft desperation clinging to him like a sheen of sweat. Belle slid her fingers through his hair, letting him pull her close, off the table and almost into his lap. 

“You aren’t alone,” she promised. “You aren’t alone, Barney. I’m here. Right here with you.” Her lips traveled his face, his lips, his neck, both feeling and tasting his tears as she went. His arms gripped her tighter, desperate to keep this sweet feeling so close. 

It took several minutes before Belle carefully pulled away. 

“Would, would you like to stay here tonight?” She said softly. “I missed you so much and I, I don’t want you to go yet.” 

“I don’t want to go,” he assured, looking at her now. She was even more dazzling this close. Belle smiled at him, looking at him as no one else did, no one on earth. Like he was precious. 

The awed look he gave her always made Belle’s chest tight. His beautiful eyes shining back at her, looking at her with such wonder and care. She was falling in love with him so quickly. 

“Then it’s settled,” she breathed. “You stay right here with me.” She kissed him again, sitting entirely in his lap now and moving her lips lazily, taking her time. 

Barney was acutely aware now that he was completely naked under the robe, kissing Belle back with fervor regardless. He did, well, have to adjust her just a little, so as not to show her just how much he enjoyed this and repay her hospitality with objectification like that. 

Belle felt him blush and knew exactly why, but she didn’t stop. She kind of liked her barber flustered, even if it was to take his mind off of things much less savory. 


	5. Bedroom Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barney and Belle spend the night together; Belle gets an unwanted visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience! School is wrapping up so updates should be coming much faster!

Barney had been in and out of Belle’s bedroom the first time so quickly he hadn’t taken time to admire it or take in more than the color of her bedspread. That entire situation of hurrying out of her personal space left the entire flat a blur of colors and books upon books upon books. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom now, shifting nervously while Belle was in the bathroom, he could observe it a little more. 

A lamp in the corner cast a warm blushed glow over the room, the pinkish-yellow light making the purple walls soften and the cream colored curtains stand out all the more.

The books were in the same place, though some beside her bed had been exchanged for new ones, mostly that he’d given her. It made his heart swell a little to see the bookmarks sticking out of them, the cracks in the binding. She’d read them, was reading them, not just humoring him. 

Her dresser had been tidied up, her bookshelf filled with the ones she’d had there, jewelry hung up on those black velvet trees they went on, an elegant porcelain jewelry box painted with ornate roses sitting in the center, a picture of her and who he assumed was her mother, a postcard from Sydney and a post-it note reminding her to bring home milk. 

In the corner opposite the doorway stood a privacy partition. Hardly used, made from a deep, rich wood that matched the dresser, it stood with a soft blue robe hanging off the end closest to the bed. The entire place smelled of lilac, honey, rich paper pages. It was beautiful. Just like Belle. 

“Barney?” 

He turned to look at her, startled by her sudden appearance despite it being her home. He smiled nervously. “S-sorry, I’ll move, I…” He didn’t have a decent excuse for it, really. Shyness, likely. Worry for his inherent ineptitude in all of this. Decades since he’d been in anything near a relationship with a woman and now here Belle was, her face washed, her hair taken down, close to him and looking at him with warm, warm eyes… It was so overwhelming. 

This was, of course, on top of their entire interaction of his clumsy fuck up of a personality, her finding him sobbing in the rain and standing before her now in a robe that didn’t even go to his knees, in his undershirt and pants-- the only clothing of his that was dry at the moment. He felt like a fucking idiot is what he felt like. A gawping thing taking up space. 

What the fuck did she even want with him anyway? Did she really like him? Was this angel actually attracted to him? 

That doubt gnawed at him every second he was awake, and even at time in his sleep. Especially in his sleep. Inescapable, they were. Those thoughts like that. All the confidence his new status had given him, that sureness in himself and his decisions, his contented demeanor about himself utterly evaporated when Belle’s eyes were on him. 

He blinked, watching Belle’s hand touch his arm. “Barney, you can get into bed if you want. You’ve had a long day, you need to rest.” 

“Are you sure y-you wan’ me to…” He looked toward the bed. “I-I-I can go on the sofa- Or the floor! I don’t wannae be any trouble to you. Any more trouble, I guess. You’ve done so much already and-” 

“Do you want to sleep beside me tonight?” Belle asked calmly, blinking sleepily up at him with that little dimple peeking out in her cheek. He swallowed, remembering those shapely legs and her warmth. He felt so good being in her arms, caring ones. How fucked was that, not remembering anyone else that touched him like Belle did? Christ he was pathetic.

“I do,” he nodded. “B-but I have to get up early for work and I-I don’ want to wake you-” 

“Barney, you are calling in tomorrow,” she said firmly. 

He blinked at her. “But I-I cannae just not… I’m not sick, I’m alright!” 

“It’s for your health here,” she said, brushing her thumb along his temple. “And here.” That same hand was placed over his heart. “It’s okay to take a day to make sure those are well too, okay?” 

He just looked at her. What was she doing to him? Mere weeks into knowing her and his entire worldview had been spun around dozens of times. “I...I didn’t know that was...something people did.” He chuckled a little. She slid her fingers through his hair, tired expression patient and...adoring. 

“It’s something healthy people do, or people who need the day to get healthy.” She kissed his chin, still playing with his curls, which were loose and in his face for the first time in...fuck it if he knew. “If you go in tomorrow, are you going to be able to focus on your work?” 

He thought for a moment, a queasiness creeping up his throat thinking about all the chat around him, the scissors in his hand, the razors that would exchange throughout the day, the conversations he was expected to have… He looked at her with those wet doe eyes and shook his head. Belle leaned up and kissed him. “Then how about you and I stay here together? A day in?” 

He blushed a little, nodding. “I-I’d like that,” he whispered. “I’d like that very much.” 

Belle pressed a warm kiss to his lips, leaning up on her toes to reach him. His heart seized, his breath caught and his stomach was bursting with butterflies. His hands slid around her waist with only the slightest of hesitations, pulling her flush against him. He relaxed into her mouth, melting like a pat of butter under her silken kiss. Belle hummed when Barney tipped his head, deepening the kiss. Her knees gave the tiniest of tremors, breath coming in a warm gasp when they broke apart. 

He looked down at her, dark eyes black in the shadow, forehead pressed to hers. There was a hunger in there, a fire doused over and over again out of fear, timidity. The embers were being fanned, just a little, arms twining more securely around her, a want to devour her apparent, and wanted. 

But he blinked and it was gone, doubt striking in his mind again and pulling him into himself again. He gave a nervous laugh, stepping back. “Uh, you, you probably want to get changed, eh? I, uh… Yeah, I’ll leave you to it.” 

Belle’s own tension released and she quickly calmed herself down. “It’s alright, you don’t have to go,” she smiled, nodding to the partition. “I’ll change, you get into bed.” 

In a sort of trance Barney wandered to the bed, sitting on the edge and unable to peel his eyes away from Belle. He tried not to stare, gawk and ogle her as she bent to dig around in her dresser, searching for whatever she was changing into for bed, but it was difficult to not to. It was her hair that interested him at the moment. The warm yellow and pink light, like a sunset caught inside the room, cast a beautiful glow on her thick locks. He loved how the auburn became a fiery halo, it and the deep brown coupling together to make her eyes positively shimmer in comparison. The soft tresses swayed while she sifted through the drawers, and for the first time he wondered what it might be like to handle a woman’s hair. Belle’s hair. Thick and gliding through his fingers, working shampoo against her scalp, conditioning methodically and tenderly while her eyes stayed shut beneath him. 

A silly thing barbers think about, he supposed. 

Belle straightened up and he pretended to be intensely interested in the pattern on her comforter, barely glancing at the little white gown she’d found. His mouth went dry. 

She gave him a smile before disappearing behind the paneling. “You can make yourself comfortable, you know,” she said from behind it, and he about leapt out of his skin at the sudden break in the silence. 

“Sorry?” He blurted. 

Her blouse flipped up over the side as she giggled. “You can, you know, get into bed, Barney. You don’t have to wait for me.” 

“M-maybe I want to,” he said, attempting playfulness. 

She laughed warmly again, her skirt joining her shirt. He swallowed roughly. “Well, if you insist.” He could hear the wry smile in her voice. Oh, she was just...perfect. 

The delicate cloths swayed in the breeze by her movements, brightened by the lamplight as well, each brush of cloth to wood enchanting. The entire partition was cast in a dreamlike glow, softened, warm colors on a different plane than himself. An ethereal place only the most beautiful, pure creatures could venture to. Belle, in all of her breathtaking beauty, was suited for such a place. Utterly unreal, too perfect for wherever he was. A monstrous place, likely. Bleak, petty, stinking. A place of spite and wickedness that stuck to all like wet tar, flicking everywhere and poisoning everything in its path. The monsters here relished in such a defilement. And here he was, on the edge of something untouchable, in the darkest part of the room like some lecherous beast salivating after a feast to never be. 

The satin and lace bra, thin as could be, the barest of coverage and support, flipped over the side next, joining the rest of her clothes. Belle was to be just as naked as he was, if not more. Vulnerable to his wretched touch that only brought ruin and death. Perhaps he was some sort of demon. The bumbling, useless kind, not the deliberately vindictive kind. His mother was like one of them. Perhaps he really was the spawn of a monster, a real one. That would explain it all away, wouldn’t it? He’d have an answer then as to why she did it and why he seemed to be cursed because of her actions. 

Maybe monstrosity was why he was so horrible at being human.

Belle’s hands rose with the gown, the fabric slipping down onro her body. It floated onto it, and she tossed her hair so it wouldn’t be caught in the gown with her. The light danced through it again and again he couldn’t breathe, certain his lungs had shriveled in the dark, mouth drier than anything. 

Belle came around the partition, walking past him to shut the bedroom door. The wind caught her perfume and floated it over to him like a bridge between the two of them. He became aware of how much the robe and the bed smelled like Belle’s skin mingled with her lotion and shampoo, clinging to the fabrics to make them hers. 

Trespasser, intruder, violator, outsider, that’s what he was. Something to pillage this place and taint it, make it another bad memory for her. Perhaps he was thinking too fancifully and it wasn’t magical at all. Everything just felt like it with Belle around. She felt unreal. Like a dream. 

Belle felt the same about him. Her quiet, gentle barber watching her with the most overwhelming tenderness she’d ever seen. He looked at her like she was an angel when he was the one who didn’t seem real. His gentle nature coupled with the stripe of temper running through him like a white hot scar on his soul gave her shivers to witness. A strength to be fearful of, and he was. He was terrified of himself, of this new situation of being with her. She knew it had been a long, long time since Barney had been with someone and that was alright. Everything was alright. He’d had such a long day, cold and terrible, filled with flashbacks from trauma she didn’t dare think of now. 

It would only make her angry and she was a firm believer in not going to bed cross. 

She turned off the lamp, the only light now coming in from the streetlamps outside and her alarm clock. 

“Barney,” she said with another smile. “You can lie down, it’s alright. I don’t bite.” 

He chuckled nervously, shrugging out of the robe slowly. His hair framed his face, broad chest straining against his shirt with his stomach. She bit her lip, desire welling inside of her again. He looked up at her, catching her stare and she could have sworn she saw his blush even in the dark. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“Why?” 

“I...I don’t know. Being half naked in your bed?” He chuckled, blushing even redder. 

Belle reached out and touched his cheek, breasts taut against the silk and lace of her gown. He swallowed, pressing into her palm with a soft sigh. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, ashamed of, Barney. You’re incredibly handsome and respectful of me and that’s all that matters, alright?” 

He swallowed. “You think I’m handsome?” He whispered. 

Belle was suddenly beside him, her warm body against him and her lips on his own. He held her again, a tremor working through him knowing just how close to her skin he was now, and his in turn. She broke the kiss and started in on his neck, so soft and precise. He loosed a low moan, lashes fluttering, his whole body burning at the caresses of her gorgeous mouth. 

“Of course I do,” she whispered. “Since I first saw you I have. You’re beautiful, Barney.” 

“B-but you-” She sucked the hollow behind his ear, effectively cutting him off and making him gasp like he’d been doused with cold water. “Look at you,” he managed. “An’ look at me. Doesn’t make sense.” 

He was both highly disappointed and relieved when she moved away to look at him, eyes sparkling. “Barney, I do look at you. Often as possible. There’s nothing, nothing at all, that ‘doesn’t make sense’ about you and I. And if people think there is? Fuck ‘em.” He laughed, the word sounding odd coming from her. 

“Okay,” he nodded. He felt better, assured, at least. It wouldn’t do away with everything he felt in an instant, it didn’t work like that. But he did feel a bit better. “Fuck ‘em.” 

Belle settled into the blankets and he did the same, stilling in surprise when Belle lied her head on his chest and draped her arm over him. “Is this alright?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her close. “It’s very alright.” 

Belle smiled, kissing his chest through his shirt, and closed her eyes. Soon enough Belle was breathing rhythmically, deeply, sound asleep right in his arms. 

He watched her awhile, brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her forehead. It was the bravest thing he’d done in decades. He shut his eyes as well, listening to her breathe, focusing on her warmth and the weight of her against his body, falling into a deep sleep free of nightmares for the first time in months. 

~*~ 

“You’re being absurd, Belle. You’re hysterical.” 

“Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ try and make me sound irrational, you get out of my home, now!” 

Barney squinted awake, the early morning sun filtering through the blinds, the sudden jolt of shouting startling him and immediately put him on edge. Too many memories of screaming and his intervention being rewarded with a hard strike and a beating later. 

But it wasn’t Mum that was yelling like that, and this wasn’t the flat he grew up in. This was Belle’s bed and Belle’s flat and Belle’s voice echoing down the hall. 

“Since when did you use language like that?” Another voice, male, one he didn’t recognize. He sat up, frowning. 

“I said, get out!” Belle’s tone was strong, forceful, but he didn’t hear any movement indicating this man was going anywhere. “Get out or I’ll call the police!” 

“And how will your father take that, hm? His daughter calling the police on her fiance when he’s just trying to have a conversation with her?” 

Barney froze. Every nerve in his body went numb, icy needles jamming into his heart. He lurched a little, sitting up fully and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

Of course. Of fucking course she’d be engaged, why wouldn’t she be? Beautiful, intelligent girl like Belle, of course she’s fucking engaged. What was the point of toying with him, then? Surely she didn’t need to do something like that. Lead him on or… Well even if she was it was better than nothing, wasn’t it? Still a better relationship than any he’d had previously, few as they were. He supposed he should be grateful for it, for Belle, and all that she’d done for him. Engaged or no he wished that he regretted it more. 

Of course all of this washed over him in a violent wave of pain that spanned about four seconds before Belle spoke again. 

“We aren’t engaged! I never said yes to you. It’s not my fault my father spoke  _ for _ me, don’t you get that? Can you not understand that I don’t want you?” 

The man scoffed. “Belle, without me? Your family has nothing. Absolutely nothing. That flower shop will go out of business and you’ll be supporting yourself on a library and historian income. Any and all savings you might have-” 

“You really expect me to marry you because of  _ money? _ ” Belle growled. “You’re out of your fucking mind. I don’t need you. I’m entirely on my own, thank you, and it’s not me that needs you. Father needs you, so why don’t you marry him?” 

“Stop acting like a child, Belle. I thought you were smart? You’re behaving like an infant. Listen to you! Why play these games with me?!” 

Barney stood when he heard something fall over and break, the man having lashed out, and Belle gasped in shock. 

“How dare you!” She yelled. 

“Do you see what you make me do when you act like this?” Gaston bellowed right back. “You think I want to be this way?” 

He stalked down the hall, forgetting entirely that he was in his pants and a T-shirt, more concerned for Belle’s wellbeing. 

“Oh, fuck off AND GET OUT!” Belle practically screamed, tears in her voice. 

“ _ Do not curse at me, bitch!”  _

“Oi!” Barney snarled, watching some tall dark-haired man grab Belle by her arm and jerk her forward like she were a doll. He shoved him back away from her, pulling Belle to his side in the same motion. “You get the fuck away from her, you deluded cunt!” 

Belle was looking up at him, shocked that he’d done something so, well...not like himself. Honestly Barney was surprised he’d done this too. It was an impulse thing, like those outbursts he used to have all the time, or when he’d nearly choked Charlie to death. Blind rage coming out in a shower of sparks. His eyes were daggers for the younger and much, much handsomer man in front of him, expression set in a snarl. 

The man scoffed at him, appraising him, and suddenly Barney’s lack of clothes caught up to him and he felt entirely too vulnerable for this confrontation. “So this is what you bed yourself with, huh? Some old son of a bitch? Is that where your money’s coming from, then? Huh? Got a sugar daddy to bide time until you know I can’t resist you?” 

“I might be old but I know when to get the fuck oot of a lady’s house when she asks me too, ye hulking piece of shite,” Barney growled, well aware of how this must look. Belle offered no explanation, and she didn’t need one. 

“Oh, I’m go-” He squinted at him. “Don’t I know you? I’ve seen you before…” He smiled horribly, shaking his head. “You’re that barber, aren’t you? Fucking your father’s goddamn  _ barber _ , Belle? You’d rather have  _ this _ ,” he jabbed his finger at Barney, “than me?”

“Obviously,” Barney snorted. “Which is why I stayed over and you didn’t.” 

“Gaston,” Belle said shakily, finding her voice again amidst the anger and fear she’d felt before, a bitter taste left in her mouth from it. “Leave.” 

Gaston gave a mock bow. “Whatever her majesty wishes,” he jeered. “And her jester, apparently. Expect to hear from your father later, Belle. He and I are about to have one splendid little chat about you.” 

He backed out the door and kicked it shut, making the bookshelves rumble a bit with the shock.

Barney let out a breath. Belle let out a choked sound. 

“Shh, I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding the back of her head. “Just made things worse, haven’t I? I-I thought he might hurt you, Belle, I’m sorry I-I-I didn’t-” 

Belle pressed her first two fingers to his lips, shaking her head with tear-filled eyes. “He would have hurt me, Barney. I saw it in his face. Thank you.” She swallowed. “I’m not engaged to him, I promise you. I would never do something like that to you, not ever. He and my father...refuse to respect what I say, what I want. I’m sorry- You shouldn’t have to get caught up in this, I understand if you don’t want-” 

It was his turn to quiet her. He kissed her, a soft, chaste touch, offering her a smile when he pulled away. “Trust me, Belle, I’ve been in far worse situations than this one.” 

She blinked. “Like what?” Her brow pinched together and he fought not to remark about how cute she looked when that happened. A pang of nervousness knocked his already unsettled stomach, pushing his heart out of it and causing it to clang painfully against his ribs. He offered her a nervous smile, hoping to mask it the wider it was. 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he teased, beaming sincerely when she laughed. Should he get caught up in this? Absolutely not. Everything was going so well for him, why should he jeopardize that for a bird? 

She placed her head on his chest and he answered his own question. Because it was Belle. And it would be worth it. 

“I believe we said something about a day off?” He whispered, looking down at her. 

She smiled, eyes closed, and nodded once, hugging him more securely. 

Definitely worth it.


End file.
